


Gifts

by fleurlb



Category: The Americans (TV 2013)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Presents, Gen, families are complicated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-08-10 02:58:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16462076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurlb/pseuds/fleurlb
Summary: Paige and Henry celebrate their first Christmas without their parents.





	Gifts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaeveBran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeveBran/gifts).



Paige shifts uncomfortably in the passenger seat of Stan's car. She isn't exactly sure how she's gotten through the however-many-days since her parents left, and she definitely isn't sure how she is going to get through the visit with Henry. She imagines that if she looks up “awkward” in the dictionary, she'll find a picture of her facing her brother after everything that has happened.

But she still isn't exactly clear on what Henry knows and doesn't know. She glances over at Stan, who has his hands on the steering wheel at ten and two, his eyes glued to the slippery road ahead of them. 

Paige bites her bottom lip and rolls the words around in her head, but she waits until they are nearly at the train station before she opens her mouth and lets them roll out. “So he didn't know anything? Doesn't know about me?”

“Nope. I didn't interrogate him or anything, but the shock that I saw in his eyes. The blankness. It was a real reaction.” 

Paige presses her forehead against the window and lets the cold comfort her. “Did you....say anything about me?”

“Just what we knew at the time. That you'd been seen leaving with them. That we didn't know whether it was under duress or your own volition. I wouldn't....you're all the family that Henry has left now.”

The sound that Paige makes is part sigh, part mirthless laugh. “I don't know what to do. What to say. How to be around him now.”

Stan is silent as he signals the turn in the Amtrak station and then makes the left turn wide and a little loopy. He pulls into the first empty spot and slides the gear shifter into park.

“You want some advice?”

Paige appreciates that he asks, that he doesn't just dictate what she should or shouldn't do, and she nods gratefully.

Stan shifts his bulk in a weary manner and faces her, holds her gaze for several uncomfortable seconds. 

“Give him the gift of not knowing.”

“Isn't that dishonest? Maybe the truth would be better.”

“Paige, the truth will gut him. Forget all about the truth. It's not going to change anything or set you free or make you feel better or any of those other cliches. The truth is just another fairy tale – a story somebody made up to make kids behave a certain way.”

Paige is surprised by the vehemence in Stan's voice, the way his hand grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white, even though the car is in park. “But won't he always wonder? Suspect?”

Stan sighs and looks away, but then he looks right back and again holds Paige's gaze. “He might. But don't give him any reason or opening. Give him the gift of being able to trust one person in this crazy world. You two have a special bond. Don't take that away from him.”

Stan opens the door and gets out before Paige can respond, leaving her tagging a few steps behind him.

\---//---

Renee is away at Jazzercise, so Stan decides to stop for carryout pizza on the way home. He leaves Paige and Henry in the car, but takes the keys so they don't even have the radio to fill the uneasy silence. Paige is in the back, behind the driver's seat. 

“So the train ride was okay then?” asks Paige, draping herself over the seat so she can try to make eye contact, but Henry is looking out the window into the darkness.

“I guess. I had to switch trains in New York City, which was a little overwhelming. I don't know how all those people live so close together. You know rats turn on each other if you keep too many of them in too small of a cage.”

Paige doesn't know if that comment means something else besides what it seems to mean, and she wonders how long their relationship is going to be this way. 

“Will we talk about the elephant in the room now or later?” she asks as she climbs over the front seat with decidedly less grace than she'd envisioned in her mind. The clumsiness makes Henry smile, though, so it's all worth it. 

“I guess you intend for now, so let's get it over with. Did you know?” Henry looks at her, nearly through her, and Paige reminds herself to breathe.

“No, I didn't know. I knew something not-quite-right was going on, but I suspected that one or both of them were having affairs. Like they were swingers or something, and I really didn't want to spend too much time thinking about that, so I didn't think about it at all. All those times I woke in the middle of the night and they weren't home, I knew that was weird. But I didn't know what it meant.”

Henry shakes his head while a blush rises in cheeks. His voice is indignant, like when he was little and thought she was playing unfairly with him. “At least you suspected something. I wasn't even smart enough to guess. To think that our parents were anything but what they seemed to be – boring travel agents who worked too hard for clients who were really unreasonable.”

“Henry, smart has nothing to do with it.” Paige reaches out and brushes his hair out of eyes, which causes him to look up at her. 

“Dumb, unobservant, oblivious. Whatever the right word is. I feel like a jerk for not even realizing there was something wrong with our family.”

“There's something wrong with every family. And anyway, expecting the best of people is kind of like your superpower. Somehow, Henry, you're able to expect the best of people and you usually get it.”

Paige watches her brother swipe at a rogue tear, and she clambers into the backseat to give him some space. She hopes she's done enough, planted a seed deep enough, that he can manage to trust her, to still expect the best of her. And she hopes she's able to give him the best.

\---//---

After Henry is asleep, Paige goes downstairs and finds Stan drinking a beer in front of the television, which is a little weird because the tv isn't on. He's just staring at the blank, mute screen.

“Mr. Beeman?”

“Paige, you might as well call me Stan. We're family now.” His words are kind, but they somehow cut Paige just the same. 

“I need a favor.”

“Shoot,” replies Stan, taking a long pull from the sweating beer bottle. 

“I need to get into our house. My mom always bought Henry and me matching pajamas. It's a little lame, but it's tradition. And I was hoping to pick up a few of his things, to make him feel more comfortable. Like his alarm clock and his games system and some of his clothes.”

“All the electronics were taken. Your personal effects, and his, are still in the house. So yeah, I could escort you over and smooth things over with the agent on the scene, but you've got to know that everything you try to remove will be thoroughly searched. 

Paige nods and Stan drags himself off the couch. She catches a slight sway in his step, but then thinks she must have imagined it. He puts on his coat and hands Paige her coat, then she follows him out into the frosty air. 

Her breath comes out in little white puffs and she follows him to the front door of their house, where a young agent stands guard, smoking a cigarette and stamping his feet to stay warm. When he spots Stan, he drops the cigarette, crushes it out under his heel, and stands up straight. 

“Henderson, Paige here wants to pick up a few things for herself and her brother. I'll be with her the whole time and we'll both inspect and log everything taken from the house.”

“Roger that, sir.” The agent unlocks the door, reaches in to flip on the lights, and then steps aside to let them enter. Stan writes something in a big black binder that's on the table where they used to leave their keys. Back before her life slid off the rails into the utter unknown. 

Different rooms of the house are in different states of disarray, but nowhere is as chaotic as her parents' bedroom. The mattress is flipped up and slit open, like a gutted fish. The drawers spill colorful cascades of clothes. The bathroom has had every bottle opened and no doubt tested for multiple chemicals. 

Paige goes into the closet and checks the high shelf, where she knows her mother has hidden Christmas gifts for the last several years. Her efforts are rewarded with two plastic-wrapped pajama packages and a box that contains a leather-bound journal. A small card is tucked into the box, the envelope sealed. 

Paige can't look at the chaotic detritus of her parents' abandoned lives, so she carries the treasures into her room, which is untouched except for being stripped of its electronics. She sits on her bed and gives a cursory glance at the pajamas- matching plaid flannel that have a goofy moose embroidered on the button-down shirt. 

She opens the card, but it's a simple Christmas card and the only message inside is “To Henry Love, Mom.” Paige doesn't know why her mother doesn't have a Christmas present ready for her, but she doesn't want Henry to wonder or feel bad, so she goes back to her parents' room and helps herself to a necklace that she finds in her dad's nightstand. It's not one she's seen before, and it has an aquamarine stone that is just about the shade of her favorite color. 

She finds a box in her closet and fills it with stuff from Henry's room as well as a few of her favorite outfits. She puts the pajamas, journal, and necklace on top, then goes downstairs to tell Stan that she's done. She knows it's the last time that she'll ever be in the house, but that knowledge makes her want to get out faster, like it's a space capsule that's running out of oxygen. 

Downstairs, she shows Stan the box and he immediately picks up the journal.

“Too risky. Anything could be slipped into the cover. Secret message written in ink.” 

Paige shows him the card and watches as Stan seems to battle with himself. He finally sighs and lifts his shirt, tucking the journal into his waistband. Paige's smile is small but grateful, and she waits patiently while Stan fetches Agent Henderson and they undertake the laborious process of inspecting and logging everything in the box.

\---//---

Back in Stan's house, Paige feels like she can breathe again. He drops the journal into the box and then opens the fridge. She puts the box down and gratefully accepts a beer from him. They sit together on opposite ends of the couch, staring at the mute, blank television screen. Paige watches their dim reflections, but is still startled when Stan speaks.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Questions about questions are something that Paige has both feared and loathed for a long time, ever since she asked one too many questions of her own. She takes a gulp of beer to fortify herself, then nods once. 

“Renee?”

Paige looks up, surprised, half-expecting to see Renee there, but then she realizes that Stan is asking about what her father said about Renee while they were standing in the parking lot, watching all their lives disintegrate. Stan's eyes are clear, his face open. 

“That was the first I heard of it. And I believe my father believes that she probably is. But based on what I know...which granted isn't that much...I don't think so.” Paige wishes that she could give him the gift of one person to trust, but she knows this gift is not one she's able to give. 

Stan picks at the edge of the label on his bottle. Paige wants to fill the space between them with words, but she doesn't know whether the words she'd choose would cause more harm than good. So instead, she gives him the only gift that she can – her presence in the moment. 

\---//---  
For two days, the four of them move around Stan's house in the approximation of normal people. They make normal conversation. They bake and decorate Christmas cookies. They talk about going ice skating and make lame jokes about Henry's skating putting them all to shame. They never turn on the television. They never open the newspaper. They never step outside the house, or even look out the front windows. 

On Christmas Eve, while Henry is sleeping, Paige slips into his room and leaves his pajamas on the dresser. 

On Christmas morning, Henry and Paige meet on the landing, accidentally bumping into each other when Henry leaves the bathroom and Paige stumbles bleary eyed out of the guest room. They're wearing their matching pajamas, a new normal that's not at all normal. 

“I have to brush my teeth. I'll meet you in my room in a minute.”

She takes a few minutes to brush her teeth and splash water on her face. She was up half the night examining the journal in every way she knew how. She doesn't think it contains any hidden messages, secret compartments, or unexpected surprises, and she's relieved. She thinks that their mother's gift to Henry is to give him a place to put his secrets and his disappointments and feelings. The thought makes her realize that their mother never expected Henry would or could come with them. Henry's other super-power always has been being destined for better things. 

Paige returns to her room where Henry is standing with his back to the window. She hands him the gift wrapped journal and picks up her own present. 

“I wonder what they're doing right now. If they're celebrating Christmas. If they're thinking of us,” says Henry while he looks at the present in his hands but does not open it. 

Paige can see Henry's anger giving way to sadness and his face is a crumbling sandcastle that breaks her heart. But it also confirms that she's made the right choice. She can be the one person that Henry can trust. She can be that gift.

/fin


End file.
